You, my Compass and my Sea
by LaClaireFolie
Summary: Traveling changes you, people said. The places you go and the people you see change the way you look it at life. It expands your horizon. That's what people say about traveling on Earth, so how much will traveling with the Doctor and his snog box change Clara? [A collection of Whouffle one shots based on the prompts given by the OTP Boot Camp Challenge.]
1. Injustice

Titel: You, my Compass and my Sea

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. Simple as that. It never stops making me sad, though.

Synopsis: Traveling changes you, people said. The places you go and the people you see change the way you look it at life. It expands your horizon. That's what people say about traveling on Earth, so how much will traveling through all of time and space with the Doctor and his snog box change Clara? [A collection of Whouffle/Clocktor one shots and drabble thingies based on the prompts given by the OTP Boot Camp Challenge.]

~*~*~*~

Injustice

Clara isn't stupid, of course she knows that the world isn't all justice and fairness sprinkled with happiness and laughter. She has learned that at the tender age of 16, when her mother died and left her gapingly empty and heartbroken for months.

Of course that was nothing in comparion to the pain her father, Dave Oswald, felt, even though he tried his very best to hide it from her. Consciously she knows that he only tried to protect her, but back then, she felt as if he was excluding her from his grief and left her alone with her own. It took her teenage mind and teenage heart a bit of time to forgive him for it.

That wasn't really fair from her either and the knowledge of the additional pain she inflicted on her father with her cold looks and the way she had sometimes flinched or turned away when he tried to hug her makes her insides churn.

She hates thinking about the way she has added more injustice to the already too big pile of it. She generally hates thinking about injustice because there is just so much of it in the world and what can she, a little girl from England, do about it?

Nothing.

Or at least that's what she thought because standing here, on the edge of this asteroid in a foreign solar system in a galaxy far away from home, watching this thing – this God – parasite – sun – planet – alien – thing – shrivel up and die away next to this impossible boy makes her believe that maybe there is something she can do.

It makes her believe that even though there is so much injustice in the world – like Mum's dying long before their time and starving children in Africa or little girls being expected to sacrifice themselves to a God – there is someone who is trying his very best to change that. To righten some of the injustices.

It makes her believe that even though the world isn't all justice and fairness sprinkled with happiness and laughter, it isn't the bleak and terrible place she thought it was at sixteen.

It makes her believe in hope and justice again.


	2. Unmasked

Unmasked

His fist slams into the face of the man with a violence she has never seen before and the nasty crunch of breaking bone fills the air. She whirls around, breaking the grip the man has had on her wrists and gasps.

His face is terrifying. It always looked human, but now when it is so filled with fury, it suddenly doesn't. Not anymore.

She figures it's his eyes, the blue green, twinkly eyes that now look as if they are deep, bottomless pits or the entirity of the universe or a burning fire or the heart of the most terrible storm. Or maybe all of that, at once.

The Russian soldier who had been trying to grope her just moments ago is sitting on his ass on the floor of the submarine corridor, holding his broken nose and staring up at the Doctor in terror.

He sents him what is probably the most hate – filled glare in all of the Universe before turning his head to her and cuping her cheek.

She can't help the way she flinches a bit and draws in breath in a scared, hiccough –y sound, but she wish he could've.

"You alright?" He asks, voice and eyes soft again suddenly. When she nods, he turns his attention back to the soldier and she can basically see the way his face turns back into one of a deadly, scary and vengeful predator. "I didn't say you could go."

The soldier, who has scrabled to his feet and tried to disappear down the corridor, freezes, but doesn't dare to turn around. His shoulders are hunched foreward and she can see that he is shivering.

If he hadn't been trying to grope her, if he hadn't tried to push his hand under her skirt, if he hadn't grinned so delightedly at the way she was struggling against him, she'd feel sorry for him.

The Doctor steps up beside him and opens the first door to his right. She doesn't now kind of room is behind it, but he looks in shortly before turning towards the man. "Well. In you go." Before closing the door, he soniced the wheel on the inside and then viciously slammed it shut in front of the soldier's face.

"What... what did you do?" She hates the way her voice falters. It's all high and squeaky with fear.

"Locked him in a storage cupboard. He'll stay there until someone finds him. Or he runs out of air."

There is a nonchalance to his voice that scares her just as much as the way the man looked at her does. And yes, he is a pig, an absolutely disgusting swine, but he doesn't really deserve this. He doesn't deserve to die of suffocation in a storage cupboard on a Russian submarine.

Which is why she grabs the Doctor's sleeve and says: "You can't do that, Doctor!" Her voice is still a bit more shaky than she likes and her touch on his jacket is rather weak. "You can't leave him in there to die."

He turns around to face her and again she flinches, but when presses his hands to her face she stays still. "Oh Clara. Do you have any idea what he would have done to you? Do you understand what would had happened if I hadn't come to save you?"

"Ye... yes, I do, Doctor. And he is the most despicable swine on board of this submarine, but he still doesn't deserve to die like this. Let the Captain deal with it. If we go and tell him what happened, he won't let this man go unpunished." She takes one of his hands off her face and squeezes it ever so slightly. "Please, Doctor."

He looks at her, long and intensely and she wonders how his scary eyes have turned into those kind and old – young ones again so fast. Then he nods.

~

When she is in bed that night, she can't sleep. She tosses and turnes and throws the duvet off because it's too warm and then she slips back under it because she's cold and finally she stands up and shrugs on a nightgown.

Luckily the Doctor's room is right next door, but before she raises her hand to knock she remembers the look in his eyes and the way he didn't hesitate for a second before he basically condemned a man to death.

Clever as she is, she has already noticed the way his reactions, especially his facial expressions, sometimes seem a bit off. The suspicion that he may sometimes be acting has already crept into her mind and now, after seeing him so angry, after seeing those eyes, she feels as if the suspicion has been confirmed.

It's as if his act slipped for a moment, as if he lost the strict grip on who he pretends to be for a tiny second and now he has accidentally unmasked the terrible being that he actually is.

Her hands falls back down to her side limply. A little sigh escapes her lips as she turns and goes back to her own room.

~

He hears her steps move away from the door and a little sigh escapes his lips. He knows that she is far from fine, that she is scared of both the soldier and the version of him she glimpsed for a moment and it makes his hearts ache.

It's ridiculous, really, but he wants her to like him so much it physically pains him. He hated seeing her walk out of the TARDIS and, as soon as she was save inside her own place, he started Sexy and jumped forwards to the next Wednesday because he just couldn't wait to see her again.

The thought that they will probably arrive at the pole soon and get the TARDIS doesn't make him happy anymore, even though he was relieved to get her away from this submarine and it's crew as soon as possible. He doesn't want her to go home, especially if she is still scared of him.


	3. Take me with you

Take me with you

"Because you are a Dalek."

There is no air. There is no air anymore and I can't breathe, but dear God, I need to breathe, I need to get air into my lungs or I'll die and I really really really can't die now that he is going to save me because

"I am not a Dalek, I am not a Dalek!"

Air. It's there, in my lungs, I can feel my chest rise and fall and if I was a Dalek, surely that wouldn't be possible, would it?

So. Yes. I am not a Dalek, I am human, I am Oswin Oswald and I've been stuck here for a year and I need to get out. I need to get out and back to my Mum, because today is her birthday and she's waiting for me, for her daughter, because that's who I am, I am a daughter and a friend and a lover and, most importantly

"I'm human."

But why does he look he so incredibly sad? Why does he look at me like something inside him is broken and raw and hurting? There's no need for that, I'm human and I'm going away with him, he is going to take me with him, so there's no need to be sad. No need to be sad at all.

"You where a human when you crashed here. It was you who climbed out of that pod. That was your ladder."

Except that he has got it all wrong, the total screaming genius has got it all wrong, I didn't climb any ladders – the metal is really cold under my hands – I crashed in my escape pot and haven't left it since then, this is still my pod – it almost bites my hands as I hold on for dear life – the pod I have spent the last three hundred sixty three days in – and I really hate all of it, the darkness and the metal and dear God, I am scared – I never left that pod and I didn't climb any ladders, he isn't making any sense and

"I'M HUMAN!"

My throat feels raw and there's a shrill, shrieking edge to my voice but that's just because I am panicking, just because he is scaring me.

"Not anymore."

He's lying.

"Because you're right. You're a genius."

Of course I am and I am always right about everything, even about this, because there is just no way I could possibly be a Dalek.

"And the Daleks need genius. They didn't just make you a puppet."

No, they didn't turn me into a puppet, because I am a genius and it's all shielded in my little escape pod. They couldn't touch me.

"They did a full conversion."

His voice is so soft and sad – I am so scared, I don't know where I am and the Daleks are terrifying – but why? There's no need to be sad, I am human.

"Oswin, I am so sorry."

I can see him turn and walk away and everything inside me screams that he can't go because he can't just leave me here, a human girl on a planet full of insane Daleks that is supposed to be blown up. He can't just leave!

"But you are a Dalek."

Liar.

"The milk, Oswin. The milk and the eggs for the souffle. Where – where did it all come from?"

I allow myself to look around in my suddenly dark pod – the wire's are pocking my face and dear God, what are they doing to me? – it's all odd roundish shapes and lines and circles – and I am so, so scared, what are they doing to me here? – and right now, I can't see any eggs or milks or empty milk cartons or broken eggshells – and slowly I feel like the fear is making room for something else, something white hot and burning in my mind – but I know if I wanted to make souffle, I could – it's making room for anger and the anger is replacing every other feeling – because I'd find

"Eggs"

even though there are none, because all this time I've been dreaming it, all of it, the souffles and the flowers and the music and the milk and the

"Eggs"

"It wasn't real. It was never real." His voice breaks through to me and he tells me something I by now have accepted.

None of the three hundred sixty three days happened, they were all in my head with the

"Eggs"

and all the other things that I needed to dream for myself

"Ter"

because the truth, the truth about who I am is terrible and shameful and sad, but

"Min"

he's right.

I am a Dalek.

"Ate. Exterminate."

And I hate him, I hate him so much because all of this, all of this is his fault because if he had just stayed away I could have pretended not to notice and things would have been alright, but of course he had to show up, this stupid, stupid boy and I hate him so I need to

"Exterminate!"

him and I can feel my body move, straining against the metal chains and finally breaking them and he is fleeing and backing away against the door but I need to

"Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate!"

him.

He's begging, saying my name over and over again, calling me Oswin.

Oswin, the name my mother called me when she was happy about something I did. Oswin, the name my father called me to scold me. Oswin, the name my friends called me when they waved to me at the entrance of the school. Oswin, the name Nina called me right before kissing me.

I can't. I can't do anything anymore and I feel my legs give way and my eyes tear up and I cry and cry, making odd little sounds at the back of my throat that are distorted and metally.

"Why do they hate you so much? They hate you so much. Why?"

Because it's true, he was all over their conscience and even though they feel nothing but hate, they feel an especially strong hate for him. There seems to be no one they hate quite as much as him.

"I fought them. Many times."

He sounds sad and my heart, my human heart breaks for him. I can't imagine what it must be like to fight and fight again and believe yourself victorious – be victorious – and then find that they come back again and you have to fight again against the same creatures.

But then again, who would fight them if not he? He's the Predator, the Oncoming Storm, the Doctor and the Universe needs him. The Universe needs him to protect itself.

And I wan't nothing more than for him to take me with him, I want nothing more than to ask him to do that, but I know I can't because I am one of them now and he can't have a Dalek at his side. Not when

"We have grown stronger in fear of you."

And there's no one else but him who can ever stop us.

"I know. I tried to stop."

"Then run."

The words are out of my mouth before I can do anything and I know it's the right thing. He needs to run. He needs to get out of here.

And he can't take me with him.


	4. Contagious

Contagious

It's the first day with her in his TARDIS, the first real one, anyhow, and he doesn't quite know how to handle her appropiately.

Then of course he isn't sure if she even needs to be handled and since they can't go out, what with her having gotten that contagious alien – illness on Ramahaloon when he went their to show her what was probably best nameded a Spring Festival in her silly little language, and she can't go home like she usually would – not that the illness is deadly, it isn't even particularly nasty, really, just highly contagious and he isn't sure if twenty first century human doctos can turn skin back into it's normal human colour rather than that frankly alarming shade of blue Clara is currently wearing – after an adventure with him, they are kind of stuck with each other.

In the TARDIS.

That still hasn't taken a liking to Clara.

She has already complained to him over breakfast that her bed is far too uncomfortable for her liking and that she really can't believe that her bedroom is a twenty minute walk away from the kitchen and a forty minute walk away from the next bathroom and if he doesn't stop laughing about her right this instant, he'll be sorry.

But she does look too cute in her red dress with blue skin underneath it.

Finally, he has calmed down enough to sit back up and look suitably solemn. "Have you called her a Snog Box again?"

"No! Well, yes. But it was meant affectionately!" She has the decency to look a bit ashamed. "I might have said 'Good night, Snog Box' or something along those lines."

He shakes his head, but can't fight the smile. She's the first Sexy doesn't like or at least, the first one she actually shows her dislike for. He wonders why that is, but he can't really get an answer anytime soon and that's a bit unfortunate since he can't really do anything to solve the problem.

He doesn't like unsolved problems.

"Well, you should stop doing that. She is not a Snog Box, she's a ship, my ship and the best one in the Universe and quiet frankly, it is a bit insulting."

She looks up at the kitchen ceiling in contemplation for a moment before yelling: "Sorry, TARDIS. I won't call you a Snog Box again."

The lights flash brigthly once and there is something that resembles a content hum in response and he smiles at her happily. "See. She likes that." He takes a bite of his toast and chews and, once he has swallowed, asks: "So. What do you want to do todays?"

"Well, I can't go out, can I?"

"Nope, not a chance. You're still highly contagious. If you came in contact with anyone, they'd turn blue, too, and we don't want that, do we now? So. No going out."

"Why aren't you blue, then?"

"I'm a Time Lord." Is all he answers to that. "So, since you can't go out, what do you want to do?"

For a moment, she looks around in contemplation. "I think I'd like to make a souffle."

~

"This kitchen's even further away from my bedroom! I'm half starved before I arrive here!" She complains.

He points his spoon at her, brows furrowed. "Well, we can't eat in the other kitchen after what you did to it yesterday."

"It's not my fault if you've got all sorts of alien things in your kitchen, but no hand mixer. I wasn't to know that the whole thing would blow up!" She protests. "You could have warned me."

It's her second day in the TARDIS and she has already managed to ruin one of the kitchens by completely splattering the walls and the ceiling with souffle dough. Even though she has stopped calling his ship a Snog Box, she still isn't overly fond of her.

He wonders how she'll spend today and if it's required of him to stay by her side. Not that he'd mind because spending time with her is quite fun, she's smart and flirtatious and she keeps him on his toes, but he can't sit or stand still for too long. And it is a bit odd to have her in the TARDIS with him for longer than a day.

"Well, anyhow, we can't use that kitchen at the moment. It's a hygenic nightmare!"

She giggles a bit and he realizes how much he actually likes the sound of it. He'll need to make her giggle more often. "You can always stay with me to make sure I don't turn this kitchen into a hygenic nightmare as well." She suggests.

"So you'll give it another try?"

"No. I'll make a souffle."

~

He doesn't eat breakfast with her the next day and he doesn't really expect her to find him. It's not like he is avoiding her, because he isn't, he just actually slept for a change and woke up at a time that for him felt far too late for breakfast, so he just went to the swimming pool instead and he isn't sure if she knows where it is, so he's quite surprised to find her suddenly standing at the edge of the pool, staring down at him and tapping her foot.

She seems a bit annoyed.

"You found the pool." Is all he says upon seeing her and then he wonders why he feels the need to voice such an extremely obvious thing. "Had a nice day so far?"

"I ruined another kitchen. The oven burnt down." She doesn't even look like she feels guilty about it. "I didn't quite understand the signs on it. It was an accident."

"Course it was." He looks at her from his place in the water, trying very hard to ignore the fact that the way she is standing he could see under her skirt if he was the type of person who would so such a thing. "Are you joining me or not?"

She shakes her head. "I wanted to ask you for directions."

"Where to?"

"The nearest kitchen."

He smiles just a tiny bit because she'll probably try to make another souffle and ruin the kitchen he takes her to in the process, but then again that's just the way she is.

Even though he isn't quite sure if he likes the idea of yet another exploded oven or walls splattered with souffle dough, so when he swims closer to the edge and stretches out his hand for her to take and help him out off the pool, he obeys his first instinct and, when she takes it – her fingers are pinkish again which means that she'll soon be back to her normal colour and thus able to go home again – pulls her into the water with him.

She is not impressed, but that doesn't stop her from starting a water fight with him.

When she climbs out of the water in front of home, her wet dress hugging her curves in a way that he decides not to notice, he realizes that her feet are pink again as well.

Naturally he also realizes that she'll go home soon.

He doesn't want her to because even though her constant presence in the TARDIS is still a bit alien, he likes it.

A lot.


End file.
